Thursday, June 9, 2016

Magic in the Moonlight

Woody Allen directs Jesse Eisenberg and Kristen Stewart on the Bow Bridge in Central Park, New York. The bridge is a recurring backdrop for many a romantic liaison in his films. [Image source: lwlies.com]

There is scarce little in life more satisfying than watching a Woody
Allen flick at the cinemas.

A
frisson of excitement runs down my spine as I park my bike on
Bondgenotenlaan, the deserted main drag of Leuven, on this warm summer
evening, with a
sliver of a crescent moon in the still-blue sky above me. I step into
the cinema with a box of popcorn for company, the cinema similarly
deserted, save for a handful of senior citizens. The young people of
Leuven are probably at home watching Eurovision, preferring to save the big
screen for a Hollywood blockbuster like Transformers, or Batman vs
Superman. Good for me - I can pretend that I am at my own
private screening that Woody has arranged for a selection of his
discerning fans.

Someone asks me about the film later, and my description of it would
probably be similar for any of the 50-odd films he's made over a career
spanning 50 years - he makes roughly one movie every year. It's about
life and the fear of death, falling in love and betrayal in love, often
by someone close to the protagonist. It's about a starry-eyed couple
silhouetted against the pearly lights of New York's Queensboro bridge,
whispering sweet nothings to each other at 4 AM in the morning (Manhattan).
It's about a city as a muse - New York in his earlier films (Annie Hall
- 1977, Manhattan - 1979 and Hannah and her Sisters - 1986), and more
recently, London (Matchpoint - 2005), Paris (Midnight in Paris - 2011)
and Rome (To Rome with Love - 2012). It's about a dazzling opening
montage showcasing New York of the 1970s - the Manhattan skyline, the
Brooklyn Brownstones, the art-deco Empire Diner in Chelsea, the Staten
Island ferry, set to the pulsating tunes of George Gershwyn's Rhapsody
in Blue (Manhattan). And moving vignettes of Paris - the Sacre Coeur and
Montmartre, the Moulin Rouge and the Pont Alexander III, set to Sidney
Bechet's lilting, jazzy notes ("Si Tu Vois Ma Mère") in Midnight in
Paris. It's about voice-over narrations and actors breaking the fourth wall to speak directly to the audience.

Cafe Society, his latest film (like his 1977 classic Annie
Hall), is set in two cities - New York and LA. It depicts the
high-octane, ego-driven Hollywood Cafe society of the 1930s. Young,
twenty-something Bobby from New York (played by Jesse Eisenberg),
arrives in sunny LA, hopeful of securing a job with his uncle Phil
(played by Steve Carell), a big-name movie producer, who wines and dines
big-name Hollywood stars like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, in his
multi-million dollar art-deco mansion in the Hollywood hills. Bobby is
shown around town by Phil's lovely secretary Vonnie (Kristen Stewart),
and promptly falls in love with her. Vonnie is beautiful, but in a
girl-next-door kind of way. Like Bobby, she is apparently unfazed by the
shallow and plastic world that surrounds her - they share a common
contempt for it. But she rejects him for another suitor, from the same
shallow Cafe Society that she apparently despises. Dejected and
heart-broken, Bobby goes back to New York, and with capital from his
criminal brother, sets up a jazz bar that soon becomes the toast of
town, Bobby's own Cafe Society.

Unrequited love kills more people in a year than tuberculosis - "I'm kind of seeing someone," Vonnie tells Bobby, when he professes his love for her. [Image source: Daily Mail]

Many years later, Vonnie visits Bobby's celebrity jazz club with her
high-profile husband in tow. Bobby is also married, but still pines for
her. He meets up with her in private, and shows her around his town, New
York, just as she had shown him LA. They walk all night, and share one
passionate kiss on the Bow Bridge in New York's Central Park, a setting
for many a romantic liaison in Allen's oevre. The
film ends with each celebrating the New Year with their respective
partners, and Bobby muses wistfully about what could have been - 'Life is a comedy, written by a sadistic comedy writer.'

The
curtains come down with Allen's familiar crediting style - white
Windsor type-face on black background, set to a sentimental 1920s jazz
tune. I am satisfied.

1 comment:

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